Jill and I were in Philadelphia last week to deliver our cancer talk –
at 6:15 on a Monday morning to an audience of a thousand operating-room
nurses (the world’s best audience, by the way). Since we had to go down
the night before anyway, we thought we’d make a nice evening of it. My
brother, Ed and his wife, Barbara said they would take the train up from
Baltimore to meet us for dinner.
“You choose the place,” they told me.
Now that I’m a food blogger, everybody wants me choose the place.
I don’t mind, though, getting online and poking around. I try to stay away
from the sites that have those reviews from real live people — I don’t even
bother to read that crap. I mean, who are these people? Take pizza reviews,
for example. Every person in the world has a chip on their shoulder about
pizza – real-live people, I mean. It comes from their childhood. It doesn’t
matter if they grew up in Jersey or Connecticut, Albuquerque or Juneau,
Alaska — or Beijing, for that matter. The pizza they had as a kid is good and
all other pizza is bad. Real live people shouldn’t write reviews.
I look for the good sites – they’re usually five or six pages in on
Google – or more – you find the local cognoscenti, usually pro writers,
usually for the Our City-type magazines, the neighborhood freebie papers or
the underground press. And I read them all and try to form a consensus or a
trend of some kind. Then I throw a dart.
Well, this time I hit a bulls-eye – a big-time bulls-eye at Le Virtù on Passyunk Ave. in South Philly. That Le Virtù and I got together at all was a miracle. When we checked into our downtown hotel, the receptionist asked if we had dinner plans- she was all hot to make a recommendation – and I told her where we were going.
“Le What? Where’s that?” And then she spouted the names of about 15 Italian restaurants – the famous ones, the touristy ones – but no Le Virtú. Hmm. The cab driver never heard of it either, which added to my apprehension. And he insisted on dropping us three blocks away – like he didn’t want to drive down that street. Jill shot me a look that asked, “Were you drunk when you made this reservation?” And when we finally walked in, the restaurant was half-empty – the worst sign of all. Oy. We gave the guy our name and he started to lead us to the main dining room in the back – Ed and Barb had not arrived yet – and suddenly I grabbed Jill’s arm and
stopped her.
“Honey, take a sniff.” Which she did.
“Wow,” she said.
“Wow, indeed.”
This was a big-time good smell coming from the open kitchen. All
my doubts melted away. We were in the right place.
We sat down and ordered some wine and water – and a plate of their
signature fried stuffed olives to tide us over — they’re stuffed with braised
porchetta, fatto a casa (made on the premises). The wine list is my kind of
list – well-priced bottles – mostly from Central Italy – Le Marche, Abruzzo,
Umbria, Lazio, Molise and few nice selections from Puglia – good stuff you
don’t see everywhere. I had a glass of Sangiovese from Molise, which hit
all the right spots.
When Ed and Barb arrived, we ordered some antipasto to get started
– including a plate of their house-made salumi. One of the owners – a
charming fellow named Fred – explained to us that all the meats are cured
on the premises and they hail from the finest local purveyors – Berks County
pork and Lancaster County lamb and rabbit, for example. As we made our
way around the plate – from the guanciale to the capocolla (the best I’ve
tasted outside of Parma), to the cotechino, the duck prosciutto, the bresaola –
the rhythm of our forks accelerated as our appetites sharpened. Also on the
plate were two things I had never tried before – ventricina teramana, which
is a spreadable salami from Abruzzo, and n’duja, a spicy spreadable salami
from Calabria. We were in pig heaven – literally.
Here’s a video of Le Virtù’s salumi.
After inhaling all those cured meats, all I wanted was a bowl of pasta
– which was a bit of a problem because I wanted all seven of them listed
on the menu. I certainly had to try the bucatini all’amatriciana, which is a
favorite of mine (also a specialty of my own kitchen). But the fazzoletti
with duck and beef ragu also beckoned me. As did the agnoletti stuffed with
porchetta in butter and sage with crushed amaretti on top. What’s a fella to
do?
Barb shot me a look across the table. “You get the bucatini; I’ll get
the fazzoletti. And we’ll share.”
Usually I’m nervous about sharing, but in this case I thought it was
the only way to go. But what about those agnoletti? Jill was going for the
fish, of course, and Ed for the lamb shank.
Fred, our host, sensed my anxiety.
agnolotti
want to miss them.”
Ah. For the table.
Perfect.
Joe, by the way, is Joe Cicala, the chef. He grew up in the D.C. area and played a lot of hockey when he was younger. Then the cooking bug bit him and he was off to Italy to learn his trade in a trattoria in Salerno. From there he cooked in restaurants in D.C. and New York, including a stint for Batali at Del Posto. But he’s found a spiritual home at le Virtù. He and his sous chef, Massimo Conochioli, are making a very special magic happen deep in the heart of South Philly.
Who knew?
Le Virtu – Sounds perfectly heavenly. I always find myself hungry after reading your posts! Thanks for such a great description. And if we ever find ourselves in Philly, we’ll certainly look it up!
And you’re right – nurses are terrific audiences. I was once working as an event coordinator for a national nurses convention in Atlanta and at 4:30 in the morning, was placing a pig’s foot at each seat at the tables. Pig skin is closest to human skin, and perfect for practicing sutures. Who knew? :)
Thank you for your wonderful review of Le Virtu. The owners are my sister, her husband, and his brother. They have a truly special restaurant (I’m not just saying this because I’m related!) that more people need to be aware of. Thanks to blogs like yours, I hope the awareness will spread.
Mike, you are a culinary archeologist – not afraid of digging around to find the treasure. I must find a reason to get to Philly soon- well, actually your review of Le Virtu is the reason.
Great review. Will share this with my wife. Sounds like our kind of place. We’ll be going to Philly for a meeting next year and will definitely give it a try. Between cheesesteaks.
Chinese restaurants are the same – always have to be careful who I’m asking, where they’re from and the breadth of experience…dangerous territory…;)
Your blogging and site construction skills are blooming…unless there’s now a good phantom behind you. Uber-mouth watering visuals, sounds and fantasies going through my body right now. Guess I have to get out of Yelp.com as my source now…
So how was the pasta? You can’t order the pastas without telling us if they were any good. Am I going to have to schlepp to south philly to find out for myself?
d
@ David — The pasta was fantastic — all three of them. I don’t like to have too many descriptions of food in one blog — I find that the eye gets just as quickly sated as the belly.
Dear Michael, I’m Francis Cratil Cretarola, one of Le Virtù’s owners (Fred is my brother and Cathy Lee my wife). Thank you so much for your kind words. Le Virtù is our love letter to the Abruzzo region of Italy, where my father’s roots were, and were we lived for a short time (with two Jack Russells). We do our best to honor the region’s simple “cucina povera,” to keep things as authentic as possible and to not make concessions. We’re not for everybody.
Anyway, we can’t thank you enough for making the trip into South Philly and for taking the time to tell people about us. People are finding us, but, to use a Colt reference you might appreciate, sometimes we do feel like Jimmy Orr: unnoticed but wide open and waving his hands in the endzone. Thank God you weren’t Earl Morrall.
@ Francis — It’s good to hear from you. Let’s see what we can do. I’m going to come down again because I didn’t get to taste everything.
But to keep the Colt metaphor going — I see you guys as Gino Marchetti and Art Donovan and … well, I could go on — real guys doing it the right way.
I really I hope that, of the two, I’m Marchetti.
Believe me, we do appreciate the metaphor. We’ve always believed that presenting the authentic cuisine of Abruzzese farmers, shepherds and fishermen shouldn’t involve pretention. As you know, that’s not what rural Italy is about.
We look forward to seeing you again and thanks.
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Absolutely my most favorite spot for dinner…and just a few minutes from home. The olive and crepe soup are just like my Mom-mom used to make and she came to America straight from a village (Venarotta) outside of Ascoli Piceno. Imagine my joy and surprise when this wonderful spot opened up right near my house. We love you Le Virtu and I am so pleased that you made your way into one of my favorite bloggers hearts…because with the food you create and the warm, cozy vibe of Le Virtu, you are definitely in our hearts!
My wife and I live in Harford County Maryland, and have wanted to visit Le
Virtu’ for a while now. We bought a vacation condo in Vasto in the Abruzzo region last year, and if the restaurant is representative of the delicious food of the region (and of the wonderful people of Abruzzo) then we need to get there very soon.
@ Richard – I promise you won’t be disappointed. Le Virtú is the real thing.